


Satisfaction

by Truth



Category: Gakuen Heaven
Genre: M/M, Semipublic Sex, Voyeurism, teenagers having sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-24
Updated: 2007-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/pseuds/Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are few things so enjoyable as having to exert yourself to gain the things you really want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Obscure Fandom Challenge 2007. Based on the anime with a nod to the manga.

‘Without challenge, there is no satisfaction.’

“You know, I considered getting something like that printed up and framed.” Niwa Tetsuya was reading over his Vice President’s shoulder again. “We could hang it over your desk.”

Without changing expression, Nakajima Hideaki highlighted the sentence and caused it to disappear, replacing it with ‘Fools and children should never see half-done things’.

“Now that’s harsh.” Niwa sighed and put his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together. “Is it my fault that there’s so little to do that reading over your shoulder is the most appealing thing going?”

Nakajima turned slightly in his chair and looked over at the desk of the Student Council President. “So little to do,” he echoed, taking in the stack of paperwork that remained obviously undone. “I see. You need more work, then?”

“I’m taking a break! A well deserved break!” Niwa took a step back, hands coming up. “I’ve been working hard all morning.”

“You’ve been reading adventure novels all morning, while complaining about how you never have enough time to get everything done,” Nakajima corrected him. He looked up at Niwa and gave him a half-smile, “Although if you’d like a chance to get out of the office for a little while…?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I need,” Niwa agreed, stretching. “Being cooped up in here all day, it’s no wonder I can’t get anything done!”

“You can run down to the bank then,” Nakajima told him pleasantly, “and get that 500 yen you owe me.”

“… you’re a cold, heartless bastard.”

“I could be charging you interest, you know.” Nakajima turned back to his computer and, with a few swift keystrokes, shut it down. “But if you don’t have the time to run a simple errand, you can stay here and keep an eye on things. You might even have a chance to get some work done.”

“Where are _you_ going?”

Nakajima rose, straightening his jacket. “In search of satisfaction,” he told Niwa softly, smile sharpening. “Where else?”

**

In truth, if Nakajima had been after difficult prey there were far more attractive targets than Ito Keita. Sweet, virginal young men weren’t really his style, no matter how attractive, and yet….

There was intrigue wrapped around Ito so tightly that Nakajima could almost smell it and it lingered, much like the taste of Ito’s skin against his tongue. Despite his preference for those with more experience, Nakajima couldn’t deny that their first encounter had been enjoyable. Ito’s flushed and almost shaking response to a few simple strokes of his tongue argued for a degree of sensitivity and response that was definitely appealing.

Niwa’s own interest in the boy was another spur, if a minor one. Nakajima liked to keep Niwa’s attention centered on the student council – or at least on the other members. The easy-going ‘King’ of the school was far easier to control when his attention wasn’t wandering

Yes, Ito definitely promised interesting things, despite his blatant normalcy at a school filled with the exceptional – or perhaps because of it. According to the schedule, Endo Kazuki, Ito’s fervent and entirely volunteer watchdog, was tied up in club activities for at least the next two hours. That made this the perfect time to, perhaps, find out exactly what it was about Ito that had brought him to this school.

… and perhaps a little more.

If Ito’s regular schedule held true to form, he’d be sitting at one of the overlooks, watching the clouds – well out of the way of Naruse Yukihiko’s regular movements. The rather over-amorous, if well intentioned, advances of the captain of the tennis club seemed to alternately embarrass or fly right over Ito’s head. Nakajima found them annoying and was pleased to see Ito taking steps to avoid them. He was slightly less enthralled to discover the Ozawa twins lurking in the underbrush, but the prospect of an audience was little more than a mild irritation. As long as Ito remained unaware of their presence, all would be well.

It would take more than a pair of peeping toms to put Nakajima off.

Ito himself, coat unbuttoned and tie slightly askew, was sprawled out on the grass, staring dreamily up at the clouds. His bag lay in the grass beside him, abandoned, and Nakajima shoved it thoughtfully out of the way with one foot before moving to stare down at the boy stretched out in the grass.

“Ito.”

There was a moment’s silence as Ito blinked up at him, startled. The look of surprise faded into a bright, welcoming smile as he sat up, extending a hand to Nakajima. “Hello, Nakajima. What brings you all the way out here?”

“You do.” Nakajima took the offered hand, easily drawing the other boy to his feet. He didn’t bother with subtlety, continuing to pull Ito until they were pressed chest to chest.

Wide eyes blinked up at him, surprised again, and a slight flush spread appealingly across Ito’s cheeks. “M-me? Wh-why me? I’m not, I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“You have a remarkably guilty conscience,” Nakajima told him, fingers of his free hand tracing along a cheekbone and watching with amusement as Ito’s flush deepened in the wake of his fingers. “Is there something weighing on your mind?”

“I – well - _yes_.”

That… was easier than expected. Nakajima blinked, surprised and surprised again as the flush was already fading beneath his fingers as Ito stared determinedly up at him.

“Nakajima, you’d tell me if there, if there was something _wrong_ with me, wouldn’t you?” One hand came up to close around Nakajima’s wrist as Ito blinked up at him earnestly.

“Without doubt,” Nakajima assured him dryly, releasing his own hold on Ito’s wrist. He stepped back, giving the younger boy a slow, up and down look that lingered suggestively. “On first survey there appears to be nothing obviously amiss.” Long fingers caught at Ito’s tie and tugged it loose with the ease of long practice. “A closer look would seem to be necessary.”

The flush made a sudden reappearance as Ito spluttered, fingers working against Nakajima’s wrist. His grip was apparently ineffective, as Nakajima twisted his hand, pressing his own fingers against Ito’s mouth and slowly tracing his lower lip. As Ito attempted to recover his train of thought, Nakajima took advantage of his distraction. His other hand rose, two fingers slipping beneath the edge of Ito’s collar to flick open the buttons and expose his throat.

Attempting to talk around Nakajima’s fingers was nearly impossible and Ito gasped helplessly as further buttons were opened, before giving in and biting at the fingers tracing the line of his lips. The fingers were withdrawn, not without a last, lingering caress of the line of Ito's mouth, but Nakajima continued to tease at the buttons of the now-open shirt.

“N… Nakajima!” Ito managed to pull himself free, flushing a bright and furious red at his state of undress and at the upperclassman’s obvious, hungry amusement. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I.” Not least because he’d seen Kakeru and Wataru sneaking red-faced peeks through the bushes. As long as they remained interested and not off spreading tales, it was almost as good as complete privacy. Nakajima stretched out a hand and pulled Ito’s tie entirely free, letting it slide between his fingers. “You wished to be assured that there was nothing wrong.”

“Yes, but… no. I….” Ito waved his arms frantically, although Nakajima noted with some amusement that he didn’t actually back away. “That’s not what I meant! I mean….”

“You mean you’re worried that you don’t belong here.” Nakajima’s amusement grew and he wondered idly if this was why he found Ito so interesting, despite his blushes and obvious naiveté. Ito might be uncertain, but in the face of the unknown he showed no actual fear. “You worry too much.”

“Maybe.” Ito looked away, sudden burst of energy dissipating as if drained away. “Everyone else has _something_.”

Tiring of the conversation, Nakajima stepped forward and rested his fingers against Ito’s lips again. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He replaced his fingers with his mouth before Ito had a chance to object.

Caught unawares and open-mouthed as he attempted a rebuttal, Ito found himself once again pressed against Nakajima – on the receiving end of a ruthless, invasive kiss. The maneuver was, of course, deliberate. For a brief instant, the entire world consisted only of a sudden rush of heat and a strange dizziness and Nakajima could almost taste the moment when Ito lost control of the situation, of himself and of any hope of emerging from this before Nakajima was satisfied. Ito leaned into the taller boy, fingers closing and tightening on Nakajima’s uniform jacket, apparently forgetting his half-formed objections completely.

A pleasant success, and Nakajima wasted no time in taking advantage of it. As Ito somewhat awkwardly returned the pleasant slide and thrust of Nakajima’s tongue, swiftly moving fingers were beneath Ito’s coat and tugging his shirt free. The jolt of heat caused by bare hands against his skin caused Ito to freeze for a brief moment, feeling a pleasant clench of tension in the pit of his stomach.

The hands continued to move, registering and ignoring the sudden shock of pleasure that caused Ito to hesitate – caught in the grip of this new sensation. Uncertainty, rather than lack of willingness, kept him from responding fully – hands still fisted in Nakajima’s jacket. Nakajima chose that broken moment to pull away slightly, ignoring Ito's wordless protest at the withdrawal. The sound of a zipper was loud enough almost to drown out the sudden rustle of the bushes and Nakajima focused on his objective as he drew Ito down into the grass.

To their wide-eyed observers, there was little of the romantic quality to this encounter. Ito's flushed face and surprised gasp as he found himself caught in Nakajima's arms was less touching than mildly alarmed, his grip on the older boy’s jacket falling away with surprise as he attempted to catch himself. The movement was to no avail, and he sprawled backward into Nakajima’s waiting arms, back impacting against the older boy’s chest with a solid ‘thud’. Ito’s mouth opened, but whatever protest or encouragement he’d been about to voice was forestalled as Nakajima’s hand suddenly closed over his mouth.

Ito’s hands caught at Nakajima’s sleeve, tugging… and digging in with the unexpected strength of surprise as Nakajima easily slid his hand into the now-opened uniform pants and beneath his shorts. Cool fingers curved around heated flesh with the ease of long experience, and Ito's hips jerked involuntarily as Nakajima indulged in a slow stroke.

There was a certain, illicit _spark_ from having Ito this way - held in his arms and at his mercy, but willing. Enjoyment came also from the knowledge of their audience, hidden and doubtlessly titillated, yet unable to actually _see_ anything more than Nakajima was willing to show. He tucked his foot around Ito’s ankle, stretching him out as if to display his prize to their audience... while still showing them nothing. With Ito's slight weight crushed against him, the evidence of Nakajima's own want was pressed tightly between them.

Lips moved against Nakajima's palm, although whether the silent words were an entreaty to continue or a plea to stop would never be known to their audience. Nakajima doubted that Ito wanted him to stop. The grip on his arm was only that - a hold, not a tug or pull. The movements that Ito made against him, hips shifting as his head fell back against Nakajima's shoulder in a movement that was almost a writhe.... Despite the flush that could be seen spreading from beneath the hand that trapped his mouth, Ito was anything but unwilling.

Another slow stroke, long fingers curved around hardening flesh and the slide of skin contrasting with the rough tug of constricting fabric. Nakajima refused to peel away Ito's clothing, despite the binding and mild awkwardness. Niwa, Kazuki, Naruse... all of them would have been more gentle with Ito, taking into account his obvious inexperience and wanting his first time to be something 'special'. Nakajima's interests lay more in making certain that it was both slightly uncontrolled and strongly flavored with the forbidden - leaving Ito wanting more.

Ito's fingers worked against Nakajima's arm, pulling on the heavy sleeve of his jacket as a low moan was stifled against the older boy's palm. Pressing a faint, pleased sigh into the side of Ito's neck, Nakajima looked down the line of the body caught in his arms and _watched_.

A sight to heat the blood and cause a tight clench of anticipation somewhere in the pit of the stomach; Ito strained to move into Nakajima's stroking hand, every movement grinding into the erection pressed against him from behind. Chest heaving, Ito attempted to pull in enough air through his nose, hands now dragging imploringly at the hand across his mouth.

Growing tension in Ito's body could be seen even from the bushes and Nakajima let his hand slip from it's place blocking Ito's mouth. He did not move it far, however, slipping another button free on Ito's shirt and working his hand inside to find skin. The response was another jerk of Ito's hips and a helpless, gasping moan. Nakajima's smile, still pressed into the side of Ito's throat, was sharp - and so were the teeth that were suddenly digging into the soft skin.

The shout that followed was loud and startled, breaking into a groan as Ito's entire body tightened and shook - giving way beneath the onslaught of sensation. Nakajima held him tightly, fingernails skimming sensitive flesh and causing another convulsion as Ito cried out and twisted in his arms. There was no release for Nakajima, but his satisfaction with Ito's response was enough - _almost_ enough. Ito slowly relaxed in his arms, hands again rising - this time to wind around Nakajima's neck.

Too close, and too _comfortable_. Nakajima bit him again, this time lightly, and let his tongue smooth against the mark before slowly releasing Ito and disentangling himself. Pushing Ito gently to one side, Nakajima rose to one knee and looked down at the sticky and completely disheveled teen. "Nothing out of order that I can see," he offered coolly.

Ito blinked up at him without comprehension for a long moment, before a broad, blushing smile spread across his face. "I... thank you."

As Ito slowly collected himself, Nakajima rose. Ignoring the slight discomfort of pants that were definitely too tight, he moved toward the set of bushes behind which he’d earlier spotted Wataru and Kakeru. He paused to pull forth a handkerchief, gently cleaning his fingers as he stared into the shrubbery. Voice soft and almost conversational, his back to Ito as the younger boy looked for his tie, Nakajima said, “I would take any attempt to upset Ito over this… personally.”

There was a frozen, guilty silence from the underbrush – assent enough for Nakajima. With a small, cold smile, he nodded in the direction of the bushes and set off. He didn’t have to look back to know that Ito was staring after him, still flushed and with eyes wide. A satisfactory result, if not as personally fulfilling as it might have been, and he was not looking forward to the long walk back to the Student Council office.

Under normal circumstances, Nakajima would have regained complete control of himself before he’d gotten more than a few hundred yards. In this particular instance, he was still dwelling on the slightly dazed young man he’d left behind, doubtlessly again sprawled in the sun-drenched grass and smiling broadly up at the sky.

This… wasn’t over.

No matter how easily he’d given in, Ito’s mysteries would not be unraveled so easily and Nakajima looked forward to the challenge with sleepy anticipation. For the moment, however, he had something slightly more urgent to take care of.

Behind his desk for once, although staring up at the ceiling as opposed to pursuing any actual work, Niwa was also thinking of Ito - although his thoughts were slightly less… _carnal_ than those of his vice president. Most of the differences between the two young men could be summed up as romantic versus pragmatic – although it went far deeper and they both knew it. At the sound of Nakajima’s entrance, Niwa jerked upright in his chair and attempted, for a brief instant, to look as though he’d been working diligently since the vice president’s departure.

He abandoned the attempt after a moment, mostly because Nakajima was heading straight for him, wearing a sharp-edged expression which promised only one thing. Niwa had only a moment to shove his chair back from the desk before Nakajima was on him, pressing him back into the chair with the full weight of his body. Full body contact revealed Niwa’s guess as to Nakajima’s intent to be directly on-target and he laughed even as he pulled at Nakajima’s uniform.

“Found a target you can’t conquer?” There was disbelief plain in his voice as well as amusement, both abruptly stopped by Nakajima’s mouth – less a kiss than a simple stoppage of words.

When Nakajima drew away, his own hands working at Niwa’s already mostly askew tie, the response was direct. “Different tactics.”

Ito would take work, and there was a desire to keep that innocence and complete _openness_ for as long as possible – to draw the game out…. Nakajima made an impatient sound and again stopped Niwa’s mouth with his own, this time telegraphing his desire that there should be no more talk.

Sex between friends was an easy thing, enjoyment and swift release found with mutual agreement. There was pleasure enough, but little of the visceral enjoyment of true seduction.

Nakajima let go of ephemeral thoughts of challenge and satisfaction as Niwa demanded his attention in much more _direct_ fashion, with the slide of skin and the hot pulse of need denied.

Ito's secrets would keep and, tomorrow, Nakajima would seek him out again.


End file.
